ACT III
(Slope of a valley overgrown with brush and heather and flowers. Toward the rear on the left, a beautiful cataract rushes down from a great height between steep cliffs. On the right, a rock shuts out the bottom of the falls, and part of the river. In the background is a mountainous landscape. It is an exquisite summer evening and the sun is playing on the water in ever changing colours. The stage is empty. From beneath the falls a song is heard, even before the rise of the curtain.)
(A little before the song ends, Hadda Padda enters from the left, accompanied by the children. She wears a light summer dress with a chiffon scarf thrown over her shoulders. The children have come prepared to gather berries. One has a wooden box, one a coloured glass bottle half filled with berries, etc. They stop to listen until the song is finished.)
MAGGA. Who was singing?
HADDA PADDA. The summer guests down at the falls.—Well, children, hurry now and gather your berries. We'll be going home soon. [Pointing to the right.] See that hollow? There must be lots of berries in there. [Sits down on a stone.]
SIGGA. Aren't you coming along with us, Hadda Padda?
HADDA PADDA. No, you bring your berries back to me.
SIGGA [turning the bottle over in her palm]. Do you want some?
HADDA PADDA [staying her off]. No, no—not now.
DODDI. Oh, Hadda! I'll gather the bluest berries for you.
LITTLE SKULI. When I come back I'll bring you berries and flowers too.
MAGGA. You won't wait for us, Hadda Padda.
HADDA PADDA [nodding assent—hand under cheek]. No—no.
ALL THE CHILDREN. Aren't you going to wait for us?
HADDA PADDA [with a start, recovering herself]. Wait for you, yes—yes, of course—do you think I would run away from you? I will wait here till you come back. [The children go off to the right. Hadda remains seated for a moment, rises absent-mindedly, walks to and fro thoughtfully, sometimes stumbling. Then she sits down again, hiding her face in her hands.]
AN HERBORIST [enters from the right. On her shoulder she is carrying a canvas bag, half filled with herbs. She wears a knitted shawl and a parti-colored kerchief on her head. In her hand, she holds a large knife in a leather sheath]. Good evening, young lady!
HADDA PADDA [startled]. Good evening, Arngerd!
HERBORIST [putting the bag aside]. I seemed to recognise one of the sisters. It is you they call Hadda Padda.
HADDA PADDA. I came berrying with the children.
HERBORIST. I saw them down in the hollow.—It is lucky to visit the falls to-night.—I heard the song.—What a beautiful day! [Sits down]—Just look at the evening glow on that rock! [Smiles.] Its furrows seem like ruddy smiling lips!
HADDA PADDA [looking up]. Like bleeding wounds.
HERBORIST. Is the young lady in low spirits?
HADDA PADDA [keeps silent].
HERBORIST [looking at the slope]. What a host of blessed flowers! I'll soon get my bag filled here. There are some of the right kind among them I'm sure.
HADDA PADDA. That is a pretty bag you have.
HERBORIST. I thought it an insult to the flowers to put them in a coarse sack, so I took my pillow case.
HADDA PADDA. Are there only flowers in it?
HERBORIST. They are healing plants.
HADDA PADDA. That's true. You heal with herbs.... You believe in their power?
HERBORIST. I believe in a fact that cannot be doubted. And I am quite sure that there is no disease that could not be healed by herbs, if people knew enough about their mysteries.
HADDA PADDA. There are wounds, I suppose, that only death can heal.
HERBORIST [looking down into the bag, she takes out an herb]. I think the young lady is very depressed, Shall I show her an herb that can heal many ills?
HADDA PADDA. A lady-slipper?
HERBORIST. It is also called the love flower.... If you would gain a man's heart you slip it under his pillow.
HADDA PADDA. Don't you see the ring on my finger? Don't you know my sweetheart?
HERBORIST. Yes, certainly.—He was a handsome boy. [Plays with the bag, as she hums.]:
"When love is the strongest, it leads to your fall, A maid's happy longest, who heeds no man's call."
HADDA PADDA [drawing her scarf more closely around her]. Do you hear the flies buzzing?
HERBORIST [looking deep down into the bag]. Yes.
HADDA PADDA. It is like the sound of a burning wick.
HERBORIST [does not hear].
HADDA PADDA. Now there is only one left.—It is buzzing around my bead. [Putting her hand on the arm of the herborist.] Say something to me, good healer.
HERBORIST. Pretty are her hands! Were they chapped or sore I would heal them with yarrow ointment. [Taking up a yarrow.]
HADDA PADDA. Can that be done?
HERBORIST. Oh, yes, with finely cut yarrow, boiled in fresh new butter. [Puts the plant aside, picks up a dandelion.]
HADDA PADDA. What do you use the dandelion for?
HERBORIST. If the young lady had warts on her hands, I would rub them with the milk of the dandelion, and the warts would vanish. [Takes up a new plant.]
HADDA PADDA. What do you call this flower?
HERBORIST. Doesn't she know the sun-dew? It is a cure for freckles.
HADDA PADDA [taking the flower]. Ah! I know this.—You cruel pretty little flower! With your beauty you lure the insects to you. Then you close on them, and kill them. You cruel pretty little flower! Do you know my sister? [Puts the sun-dew aside.]
HERBORIST [holding a new plant in her hand]. This is the grass of Parnassus. It makes a good hair-ointment.—Pretty is the young lady's hair.
HADDA PADDA. You have dug up all the flowers by the roots.
HERBORIST [pointing to the knife]. I cut them up by the roots. They must not lose their power. They are all alive.—Shall I tell you more?
HADDA PADDA. Not now, thank you.
HERBORIST [puts the flowers into the bag; points to the sky]. Look how red the clouds are!—I think we'll have fine weather to-morrow.
HADDA PADDA. Do you think so?
HERBORIST. Evening-glow means warm, morning-glow means storm.
HADDA PADDA [is silent].
HERBORIST. Why do you look at me so long?
HADDA PADDA. You have such a peaceful smile on your face. Are you always so contented?
HERBORIST. I have no reason not to be.
HADDA PADDA. Have you never been discontented with life?
HERBORIST. Yes, when I deserved it. But when one is kind to every one, life brings peace and happiness.
HADDA PADDA. Has kindness never taken revenge?
HERBORIST. Kindness does not take revenge. It is only evil that takes revenge.
HADDA PADDA. Then you have been obedient to your fate?
HERBORIST. What I say is true, my girl. Life treats us as we deserve. We cannot get rid of our past. Nature is a righteous judge.
HADDA PADDA. Nature is heartless and blind.
HERBORIST. Nature IS a righteous judge. I shall never forget something that happened thirty years ago. I lived at the sea-shore then. One day, when I was washing fish with some other girls, we saw a woman from the farm take her child by the hand and lead her out to a jutting rock—when the flood tide came it took her....
HADDA PADDA [looking up].
HERBORIST.... The case was brought before the judge. The mother insisted that she had left the child on the ridge, and that it must have walked down to the shore while she was gathering some dulse. Each of us had to point out the spot where she had left the child, but the mother pointed to the ridge. As she raised her three fingers to swear that it was true, a wave rose, and out of it shot a white column of foam. It stretched like an arm into the air—like an arm with three swearing fingers. The sea itself swore against her.
HADDA PADDA [A cold shiver runs through her. She draws her scarf more closely around her]. It is so strangely cold here.
HERBORIST. The sun is going down. I had better be going. [The bag upsets, and some plants slip out.]
HADDA PADDA. The dandelion is slipping out of the bag. Grant the dandelion its life.
HERBORIST. I can't grant the dandelion its life. Perhaps to-morrow a mother will come with her little girl. "Rid her of her warts," she will say, "for her hands are so fine."...
HADDA PADDA [takes the dandelion in her hands]. Grant the dandelion its life. Do you see how it stretches its thousand delicate fingers to the fading light? If you plant it again, it will close up and be silent a whole night with joy.
HERBORIST. You are silent and you don't smile—is it with joy?
HADDA PADDA. You must not ask me that.
HERBORIST. Smile, and I will grant the dandelion its life.
HADDA PADDA. Now I am smiling.
HERBORIST [thrusts her hand into the bag]. Tell me of your joy, young woman. Each time you give an answer you grant a flower its life.—
Of all things,—what is the softest you have ever felt?
HADDA PADDA. The hair on my cheek when my lover stroked it.
HERBORIST [taking a plant from the bag]. Now you have granted the yarrow its life.—Tell me of your joy, young woman. What made your hand so pretty?
HADDA PADDA. Happiness made my hand so pretty. It has smoothed back the hair from the most beautiful forehead.
HERBORIST [taking out another plant]. Now you have granted the catch-fly its life.—What cast the shade of sorrow in your eyes?
HADDA PADDA. Now you are not asking me of joy. Now I will not answer.
HERBORIST [shows her a new plant, fondling the flower]. Why shall the violet die?
HADDA PADDA. Do not ask me why the violet shall die.... I want to be alone.
HERBORIST [gets up, puts the bag on her shoulder, takes the knife and flowers]. God bless thee, young woman! The Lord be with thee, Hadda Padda. [Disappears to the left.]
[The sun sets behind the mountains and twilight gradually descends. Hadda Padda sits gazing into space. Suddenly she is startled by voices, and she disappears into the bushes. Native and foreign tourists come from behind the rock, two by two, crossing the stage, conversing. German and French are heard. Behind them all, comes]
A YOUNG WOMAN [waiting till the others are gone, she calls]. Hadda Padda!... Hadda!... Hrafnhild! [She shades her eyes with her hand.] There they are! [Goes out to the right.]
[Ingolf and Kristrun enter from behind the rock.]
INGOLF [stops]. Look, there are the children gathering berries. ... Do you see Hrafnhild?
KRISTRUN. No, but I see Helga walking toward them.
INGOLF. I wonder if Hrafnhild is down in the hollow?
KRISTRUN. Perhaps she is.
INGOLF. We won't pass there then. Let's rest here for a moment. [Sits down.]
KRISTRUN. You act as if Hrafnhild were still your sweetheart.
INGOLF. What do you mean?
KRISTRUN. I thought you wanted to show me the greater consideration. But it is quite the contrary. Sometimes you are positively hard to me, just to spare Hrafnhild every conceivable annoyance.
INGOLF. Do you remember the day after—. When she walked around trying to smile to every one. She was like a sick butterfly. You didn't complain then that I was too considerate to her.
KRISTRUN [disregarding his remark]. You and she—you wear the rings—you are the lovers in every one's opinion! And I have to endure it.
INGOLF. You gave your consent for us to wear the rings till we leave here.
KRISTRUN. My consent, yes! If it is a consent that you made me pity her. I don't think she needs any pity now.
INGOLF. Yes, it is very strange,—to-day, to-day and yesterday she has been tingling with joy.
KRISTRUN [sitting down]. Now you can see how deeply her love touched her. After ONE week she's as though nothing had ever happened.
INGOLF. Hrafnhild is proud by nature. She would never let it be seen that an unfortunate love affair could make her miserable.
KRISTRUN. Yes, SHE is proud by nature, she is everything fine.—And I—I am nothing. [Tears in her eyes.]
INGOLF. You are the loveliest woman in the world. [Embraces her.]
HADDA PADDA [appears between the bushes, seeing them she stops an instant, then goes toward them]. I didn't know you were here.
INGOLF [gets up]. We have just come from the falls.
HADDA PADDA. And I was just gathering berries. Aren't my lips blue?... Why are you so silent, Runa, dear?
KRISTRUN [does not answer].
HADDA PADDA [in a changed voice]. I am going away to-morrow.
INGOLF. Going away to-morrow?
KRISTRUN. Going away—?
HADDA PADDA. I leave to-morrow. I'm going with Helga.—Let us part friends.—I have only one thing to say to you before I go.
INGOLF. What is that?
HADDA PADDA. You may feel safe now. I won't be the shadow in your sunny path.... I don't love you any longer, Ingolf. [Ingolf and Kristrun look at her amazed.]
HADDA PADDA. Nor do I bear you a grudge... that is why I can tell you this.
INGOLF. I always knew you were high-minded, Hrafnhild, but—
HADDA PADDA. And Runa, dear, won't we be the same friendly sisters we have always been? [Strokes her hair.] Do you want to see that I love you as much as ever? [Takes her hand.] Come, let me take you in my arms.
KRISTRUN [bursting into tears, she throws herself into Hadda's arms]. Hadda, dear—
HADDA PADDA [presses Kristrun violently to her breast].
KRISTRUN [throwing her head back]. Hadda, Hadda, you are hurting me!
HADDA PADDA [lets go of her—turns to Ingolf]. And now I would like to speak to you for a moment. May I?
INGOLF. Yes, certainly.
HADDA PADDA, Oh, there's Helga. She is looking for me, Runa, dear, may I say a few words to Ingolf? You meet Helga, and start for home with her, won't you?
KRISTRUN. I'll do that, Hadda. [Hurries away.]
HADDA PADDA [sits down]. I think I have discovered that you don't really enjoy your new happiness. That is why I want to talk to you.
INGOLF. You have told me all I want to hear.
HADDA PADDA [involuntarily frowning a moment]. It is strange how proud the imagination can be, pretending to be a strong reality. If I had really loved you at all, I would still. I do not. So long as you were free, I made myself believe I had a certain claim to you. But once you were engaged to any one else, the same thing would have happened?—I should have forgotten you in a week.
INGOLF. You need not tell me this, I know it.
HADDA PADDA. What do you know?
INGOLF. I know that you deny your own heart for the sake of others.
HADDA PADDA. Now you think too highly of both of us. I am not so good as you would make me, and it is not so difficult to forget you as you imagine.—You won't believe that I have succeeded in forgetting you. Won't you believe, either, that I have made every effort to do it? The day before yesterday I locked myself in my room, and took out your letters to see whether I could bear to read them. I wanted to test myself,—you know I like to get to the very heart of things. Well, I read letter after letter. It is a remarkable power that is given to a trivial matter. If I had not read the letters, I might still have felt unhappy, but I read and read with ever increasing calmness. I don't believe my feelings. I go walking, searching for all the places where the earth must be scorched with burning pleasures, in order to know whether they enkindle memories so sacred that they can again inflame me. Everything, everything, is extinguished. What is the matter, little Hadda? Does everything leave you cold? Is this death perhaps? And a mixed feeling of joy and pain seizes me, for this came so unexpected—it came so unexpected—it came so unexpected—
INGOLF. What is the matter, Hrafnhild? Are you ill? You are so excited. Why are you so eager to tell me all this?
HADDA PADDA. Because I don't want you to think I am making any sacrifice. You think so, but I am not.
INGOLF. I understand.
HADDA PADDA. No, you don't understand. There was still one place where I was afraid to go, because it meant more to me than any other. I grasped my heart with fear, and there I seemed to find the place. It was the Angelica Gorge,—where you had put your life in my hands. I was afraid that if I went there, I would instantly lose the peace of mind I had gained. But if I could not bear that, then this peace was nothing but an illusion. I wanted to be sincere with myself—so I went up there last night.
INGOLF. We saw you walking up the mountain.
HADDA PADDA. I lay down on the edge of the cliff and looked down into the depth from which I had seen you come up. "Little heart," I said, "try to be calm while I am tormenting you: Here it was that he raised himself up on the rope I held. Here it was that he showed me how well he loved me." But instead of feeling pain, my whole frame quivered with trembling joy. Here, too, I had conquered. Tears of gratitude came into my eyes, I stretched myself farther out on the edge to make my tears of joy fall into the chasm, down to the very bottom.—Do you see now that I am not going to make a sacrifice. Now tell all this to Runa, for she should know it too.
INGOLF [very much moved, throws himself at her feet]. When you have risen I will kiss the ground your feet have marked.
HADDA PADDA. Then I shall never rise.... Don't lie down like that. Get up, Ingolf, INGOLF. I will lie down and forget. Let me dream of death for one moment.
HADDA PADDA. Death! You who are happy!
INGOLF. Death is not unhappiness.
HADDA PADDA. Come, sit down again. I will tell you what death is. Last night I was only a hair's breadth away from it.
INGOLF [starts, terror stricken, he half arises]. What are you saying?
HADDA PADDA. When I lay there on the edge of the gorge, looking down, something dazzlingly white flashed before my eyes. Quite instinctively I reached out for it. It was as if my hands perceived what it was, before my eyes had had time to make it clear to me. It was the string of pearls which bad loosened from my hair. I reached for it without considering how unsafely I was lying there, when suddenly I felt myself slipping down. The sensation cannot be described. While my right hand reached for the pearls which were dropping down into the gorge, my left caught hold of the turf on the brink. I was losing my balance and nothing held me up but a few blades of grass. I felt my heart in my throat, and a cold perspiration over my whole body. Now the grass was giving way, now I clawed my fingers down into the earth and dug my feet into it, but it was too hard; I tried to press my knees down into the turf—nothing helped, I was slipping. Life or death! To the right there was a stone. I let go of the grass, and blindly swung my body to the right, my feet slipped beyond the edge,—but my hands had caught hold of the stone. When I got to the edge again, I lay in a stupour for a long time, and I did not know whether I was at the bottom of the gorge or at the top.—Never have I loved life as I do to-day.
INGOLF. How horrible! But what made you wear the pearls?
HADDA PADDA. It was foolish, but I don't know whether you can blame me. One day, when I was almost melancholy, and I could not talk to anybody, I was seized with an unconquerable home-sick feeling. I yearned for mother, and felt how much I loved her. I took the pearls out and looked at this precious heirloom, which she had given me. I fastened it in my hair,—and immediately I felt better. That was why I wore them the nest day too.
INGOLF. And now they lie at the bottom of the gorge!
HADDA PADDA. Yes.
INGOLF. What are you going to tell your mother?
HADDA PADDA. I won't tell her anything before I know whether they will be found.
INGOLF. Have you asked any one to search for them?
HADDA PADDA. I just thought of asking Steindor, but I can hardly bring myself to tell him,—if afterwards they should not be found.
INGOLF [A vague disquietude takes possession of him. He is silent for an instant, then stares at Hadda, trying to read the influence of his words upon her]. Well, you are going to-morrow, and the very next day I will go down into the gorge and look for them.
HADDA PADDA. Will you really, Ingolf? And not tell Runa that I lost them? Mother must not know that I have treated the pearls so carelessly.
INGOLF. I won't tell any one.
HADDA PADDA [looking at him with wide-opened eyes]. I'd like it even more if you would do it before I left. If you looked for them to-morrow morning while I am getting ready to go. Then you'd spare me the anxiety. Take Steindor with you, will you?
INGOLF [gets up. All doubt leaves his mind as he looks into her face and he is ashamed of the unworthy suspicion that had touched his soul]. Yes, Hrafnhild, don't be distressed. We shall find your pearls.—Aren't you coming with me?
HADDA. PADDA. No, I will wait for the children.
INGOLF. Good-night, Hrafnhild. [Goes.]
HADDA PADDA. Good-night. [Looks after him for a long time. Her eyes fill with tears, and she throws herself down weeping violently. Soon the voices of children, laughing, are heard near by. She looks up, passes her hand over her eyes, hears the children's footsteps and lies down again as if asleep.]
THE CHILDREN [enter. In addition to the berries, each of them carries a bouquet of flowers].
LITTLE SKULI. She's asleep. [He takes his bouquet, and those of the others, placing them around her head.]
The children sit down quietly, eating their berries.
CURTAINACT IV
(A deep gorge viewed from the side, its walls running obliquely down from right to left. The upper end of the outer edge merges into the mountain slope, which shuts out the view to the left. It is foggy. On the left, as the fog lifts, a waterfall glistens in the distance, like a broad white streak in the air. The sides of the gorge are abruptly terminated by a cliff, the top of which is grass-grown. Here, Ingolf and Steindor are sitting. Beside them is a long rope.)
STEINDOR. Just look how it is drizzling!... I can write on my clothes. [Forms letters on his sleeve.]
INGOLF [strokes his finger along his sleeve]. My suit just matches the drizzle.
STEINDOR [is silent].
INGOLF [is aroused, as from a reverie]. Are you rested?
STEINDOR. Oh, very nearly.
INGOLF. You should have let me pull you up. It is too tiring to raise oneself.
STEINDOR. I have been lowering myself into this gorge for fourteen years now, to get angelica, and always without help. This is no height at all.
INGOLF. How high do you think it is?
STEINDOR. Only half a rope-length.
INGOLF. How long is a rope-length?
STEINDOR. A hundred and twenty feet.
INGOLF. Have you lowered yourself that far?
STEINDOR. I guess even a little more. One summer on the Westmen Isles, I went down three rope-lengths, for fowl; but then, I tied the rope around my waist, and took a stick along, to push myself off from the rock, so that the rope wouldn't turn.
INGOLF. The rope turned round with me before.
STEINDOR. Only practice can prevent it.
INGOLF [gets up, walks out to the brink, and looks down into the gorge]. Did you look everywhere possible?
STEINDOR. I did.
INGOLF. So did I. But it is very dark in some places, and there are so many holes. Did you look in the holes?
STEINDOR. Well, I wasn't going to crawl into every pit—that would be an endless job. Besides, I think it serves these women right, once in a while, to have themselves to blame. It teaches them to take better care next time.
INGOLF. Don't speak to any one about it. She asked me not to tell anybody. I wouldn't have told you, if I'd had any luck in my search. But I thought perhaps you might be able to find them.
STEINDOR. You told the family that you had lost your diamond ring.
INGOLF. Yes, then we will say we have found it. [Looks down into the gorge.] How uncanny it looks down there! It is as if the fog were shunning the gully, so inky black!... See how sombre the ravine looks!
STEINDOR [gets up, and walks out on the brink].
INGOLF. It looks uncanny down there! [Warning him.] Don't go too near the edge.
STEINDOR [laughing]. Steindor can take care of himself!
INGOLF. Have you ever fallen, Steindor?
STEINDOR. Oh, well, I've had my share of that.
INGOLF. How did it affect you?
STEINDOR. I don't wish myself a better death, if the fall is high enough. One winter I was going over a gully, clogged with a frozen snow-pile. I had to pass it; so I forced my stick down into the pile, and leaped over it. I tried to pull it out as I came over, but it stuck tight, and threw me backwards. I knew nothing more, until I woke up at the foot of the rocks, and saw the blood stains on the snow. I had scratched myself on the edge as I grazed over it.
INGOLF. And otherwise you got off alright?
STEINDOR. Quite alright. I landed on the soft snow. Had it been rocky below, I would have died instantly. Since that day, I say falling from a height isn't the worst death. You lose all consciousness in falling.
INGOLF. To fall from here would be horrible.
STEINDOR. It's more horrible thinking about it than anything else.
INGOLF. It would be quite a fall.
STEINDOR. Oh, yes—I think you would get your fill.
INGOLF. Here, take the rope, Steindor. Let us go.
STEINDOR [looking around]. Some one is coming up along the ravine.
INGOLF. Where?
STEINDOR. There—why, it's Hrafnhild. She is nearly here now.
INGOLF. What is she carrying over her shoulder?
STEINDOR. It looks like a spade.
INGOLF. Come, let's go and meet her. [They take a few steps.]
HANNA PADDA [is heard calling]. Wait!
INGOLF. What do you think she wants with a spade?
HADDA PADDA [is heard calling, almost out of breath]. I wanted to catch you before you went down. [Enters.] There was nobody else at home to bring the spade, so I offered to do it.
INGOLF. Did you tell mother we were coming here?
HADDA PADDA. She asked. She saw you walk up the mountain. I told her you had lost your diamond ring in the gorge, and you and Steindor were going down to look for it.
INGOLF. Did she send you with the spade?
HADDA PADDA. No, she said, that if she had known it, she would have asked you to take a spade along, and get some angelicas for the garden. That is why I followed you. [Walks out and drives the spade in the ground.] Have you been down already?
INGOLF. Yes, we have.
HADDA PADDA. Did you find your diamond ring?
INGOLF. We did not find your pearls.—Yes, I had to tell Steindor. I went down first and searched very carefully; then I asked Steindor to go down,—I thought he might have better luck.
STEINDOR. They will never be found.
HADDA PADDA. They MUST be found; they SHALL be found.
INGOLF [looks questioningly into her eyes]. Are you sure they did not fall beyond that lowest rock? [Points in the direction.]
HADDA PADDA [eagerly, and returning his glance calmly]. No, no. I saw them fall, just by the big stone. You haven't looked carefully enough. It has really taken you no time at all.
INGOLF. I hunted for them everywhere, as if I were searching for a needle.
STEINDOR. I can't search any better than I have.
HADDA PADDA. Then it is due to the fog. Probably I have to wait till later... No, I can't go home without them.
STEINDOR. The fog is not so dense, that they couldn't be found on its account. You can see all around, down in the gorge. Just look!
HADDA PADDA [walks out to the edge, looks down, turns round abruptly]. Did you search in the pool near the big stone? It might have fallen there.
STEINDOR. I took a look at it, but I didn't see anything.
INGOLF. I would have seen them glitter in the water, if they were there.
HADDA PADDA. Glitter in the water! And the pool covered with duck-weed! So that's how you searched!—Did you look all through the duck-weed, did you fish it out of the pond, to see if the pearls were hidden in it?
INGOLF. No, I didn't do that.
STEINDOR. No, it may be possible—
HADDA PADDA. Yes, it is possible, to be sure. Hundreds of women might have lost their pearls down there, without your having found them.
STEINDOR. No, I think you are the only one...
HADDA PADDA [turns quickly toward Ingolf]. What do you think mother will say when she hears that I have lost the heirloom?—[Resolutely.] Men never can find anything, men do not understand how to search. [Tears the rope from Steindor.] I had better go down myself.
INGOLF. You don't really intend to go down?
HADDA PADDA [ties one end around her waist]. I intend to do what I can to find my lost treasure again. STEINDOR. You will not go far, I think, before you ask us to pull you up.
HADDA PADDA. I have been lowered into this gorge before.
INGOLF [takes the loose end]. I forbid you to go down, Hrafnhild.
HADDA PADDA. You forbid me?... I forbid you to touch this rope. Or, shall we see who is stronger? [pulls the rope.]
INGOLF [coming nearer to her, he lets the rope slip] I know what you are thinking, Hrafnhild. You want us to go down again, and you know this is the only way you can get us to do it.
HADDA PADDA. Do you think I am afraid to go down? It would only give me joy. And if you didn't find the pearls, when you looked for them the second time, I would go down, anyhow. I would never be at rest until I had searched myself. (Ingolf lets go of the rope, takes Steindor aside—he nods. They both look at Hrafnhild while she fastens the rope around her waist more securely.)
INGOLF. What are you going to do now?
HADDA PADDA (having finished tying the knot, holds the rope out to them). Will you hold the rope while I go down?
INGOLF. No, I won't.
STEINDOR. I won't either.
HADDA PADDA (bites her lips, stares at the men). Go on home! (Starts to wind up the rope.) I don't need you. You think I can't do without you? You think the mountain hasn't stones heavy enough to keep me up? (Runs away, and disappears toward the mountain.)
INGOLF. I don't remember exactly—it's quite impossible to enter the gorge from below, isn't it?
STEINDOR. So far, only the birds have that privilege. It's a headlong precipice on three sides!
INGOLF. I won't let Hrafnhild go down.
STEINDOR. She says she has gone down in the gorge before. Is that true?
INGOLF (nods reluctantly). Yes.
STEINDOR. When was that?
INGOLF. Last summer.
STEINDOR. Did you hold the rope?
INGOLF. I did.
STEINDOR. Well, then I don't know what you are afraid of.
INGOLF. It seems strange that Hrafnhild should come up here.
STEINDOR. She came with the spade.
INGOLF. It seems strange we didn't find the pearls, if they were in the gorge.
STEINDOR. She'll be lucky if they are ever found.
INGOLF. It seems strange that she dropped them. When I saw that she herself was coming here, it flashed across my mind, that she hadn't dropped the pearls in the gorge after all.
STEINDOR. I don't understand—what are you driving at? Do you think it is something she invented? Why should she?
INGOLF. I am afraid to let her go down.
HADDA PADDA [enters with a large stone in her arms which she places on the edge. She has the coil of rope thrown over her shoulder. Laughs]. So you haven't gone yet! [Takes the spade and starts to dig.] Don't you think I can do without you now? I will dig a deep, deep hole. Then I'll tie one end of the rope around the stone, and place it into the hole.—Then I'll go and get more stones up in the mountain and pile them up. You will see how well it will hold.
INGOLF [examining the stone]. So you think it will hold? Well—[Takes the stone and flings it into the ravine.]
HADDA PADDA [smiling, she looks at Ingolf]. I shall take better care next time. [Running away, Ingolf and Steindor look after her.]
STEINDOR. She is determined to go down.
INGOLF. I will offer to go down again. Let us both offer to go down.
STEINDOR. She said she would go down anyhow, if we didn't find the pearls.
INGOLF. Just look how fast she is running! She is holding her hand to her breast.
STEINDOR. Now she is stopping... She is lifting a stone... Now she has thrown it away.
INGOLF. She runs without stopping.
STEINDOR. Now she has found a new stone.
INGOLF. She is bending over it. What is she doing?
STEINDOR. She is tying the rope around it. She won't let you hurl this one over.
INGOLF. She is lifting the stone, and carrying it in her arms.
STEINDOR. She is strong, Hrafnhild is. Now she is running with it.
INGOLF. See how the earth is slipping from under her feet. See how the pebbles pursue her! She is running away from them with the big stone. She is holding it in her arms as if it were a child she were rescuing.
HADDA PADDA [enters, carrying the stone which she cautiously places on the edge. Smiles]. You haven't gone yet! What are you waiting for? [Takes the spade, and starts to deepen the hole.]
INGOLF. Steindor and I will go down for you. We will search as thoroughly as possible.
HADDA PADDA. You are kind. But now I will let nothing prevent me from going down. Had you offered to do so before, I would have accepted; but when you say you forbid me to go down, I intend to go. [Steindor walks restlessly near the edge.]
INGOLF. You know that we can prevent you from going down.
HADDA PADDA. You can—how?
INGOLF. We can take the rope from you and go home.
HADDA PADDA. Yes—you can do that. [Turns away.]
INGOLF. What would you do then?
HADDA PADDA [in same position]. Go home and get another rope.
INGOLF. Don't be so obstinate, Hrafnhild.
HADDA PADDA [in a low voice]. Why don't you call me by my pretty name any more? We aren't enemies. Promise to call me Hadda Padda always. When I leave to-day, when I mount my horse, and ride away, wave your hat to me and call: Good-bye, Hadda Padda.
INGOLF. Are you determined to go to-day?
HADDA PADDA. Determined. [Rolls the stone into the hole, takes it up again, and digs deeper.]
INGOLF. You won't accept our offer?
HADDA PADDA. No, I won't.
INGOLF. Then stop your digging. It is useless.
HADDA PADDA [looks at him, puzzled].
INGOLF. You must understand that we will not stand by, and let you go down with only a loose stone to hold you up.
HADDA PADDA. True, I wouldn't be as nervous, if I knew you were holding the rope. [Puts the spade aside, and looks down into the gorge.]
INGOLF [unties the rope from the stone].
HADDA PADDA. I don't know whether I dare go down, Ingolf.
INGOLF. Don't go—give it up.
HADDA PADDA. I never saw the gorge so hushed. How it stretches its cold, greedy stone-fingers into the air!—But imagine my finding the pearls! [Determined.] I must go down. Is the rope safe?
STEINDOR [standing near them]. Even if there were three Hadda Paddas—
HADDA PADDA. Ingolf! I am not afraid to be lowered down by your hands. [Lies down with her feet over the edge.]
STEINDOR. There are others beside Ingolf, to be sure, who could hold up one woman.
INGOLF. I hate to see you go down.
HADDA PADDA [is silent for an instant, turns abruptly around, looks down the gorge, gets up and takes the spade]. You aren't sitting safely, Ingolf. I will deepen the hole, so that you can have something to push your feet against. [Digs.]
STEINDOR. [with an amused smile]. You believe you are heavier than you are, Hadda Padda.
INGOLF. I ask you once again, to give up the idea.
HADDA PADDA. Are you afraid you will lose me?
INGOLF. You can spare your scoffing.
HADDA PADDA. I am not scoffing. I'm the one who is afraid. You are not so strong as you pretend. Steindor, will you hold the rope with him?
INGOLF. You don't have to sneer at me. [At his glance, Steindor turns away.]
HADDA PADDA. Now set your feet securely, Ingolf, and both of you hold the rope. Do that for me, and I'll go down quite fearlessly.
INGOLF. Well, we will both hold the rope. [Steindor sits down, catching the rope too.]
HADDA PADDA. Now I am safe. [Disappears below the edge. The rope is seen sliding slowly and firmly through their hands.]
INGOLF [pushing Steindor away]. Get up! I won't accept an affront like this—not to let me hold the rope alone! Get up and keep an eye on her,—but don't let her see you. [Steindor gets up. The rope slides down for a time.]
THE VOICE OF HADDA PADDA. Ingolf!
INGOLF. Well? [Stops the rope.]
THE VOICE OF HADDA PADDA. Are you both holding the rope?
INGOLF. Yes.
THE VOICE OF HADDA PADDA. Tell me the truth, Ingolf.
INGOLF. We are both holding the rope.
THE VOICE OF HADDA PADDA. Tell me the truth. Is Steindor holding the rope?
INGOLF [to Steindor]. You have let her see you.
STEINDOR. No, no!
THE VOICE OF HADDA PADDA. Why did you deceive me, Ingolf! Pull me up! [Ingolf pulls up the rope.]
HADDA PADDA [reappears over the edge]. Why did you deceive me?
INGOLF. I felt ashamed to hold the rope with some one else.
HADDA PADDA. The idea flashed upon me. That is why I called. I knew your pride. But suddenly I grew nervous. I seemed so far from all human life. Since you don't want Steindor to hold the rope, he must stand some place where I can always see him. Steindor, stand where I can see you. Now and then you'll call to me. You'll just call: Hadda Padda! and I will answer: Yes. Then we will get word from each other. Here, on the edge, you can see me—[points to the farther edge]—down there on the ledge, I can see you perfectly.
INGOLF. Yes, do that, Steindor.
STEINDOR. Alright. [Goes there.]
HADDA PADDA. Why don't you place your feet in the hole, so that you will sit more securely?
INGOLF. Are you afraid I'm sitting too near the edge?
HADDA PADDA [takes the end of the rope]. There is no knot on the end. Fancy, if the rope slipped out of your hands. [Ties a knot in it.]
INGOLF. Why are you so frightened?
HADDA PADDA. I don't know....It wasn't fair to prevent Steindor from holding the rope with you.
INGOLF. If you are so afraid, of course we will both hold the rope.
HADDA PADDA. I don't know....Oh—no, hold it alone. I also want to see some one, to see him stand there, and hear him call to me.
INGOLF. I prefer that.
HADDA PADDA. But now if it should slip from you—! If you open your hand a hair's breadth too much, you will lose the rope! [She starts with a shudder.]
INGOLF. I shall let the rope slide over my shoulder—will you be more at ease then?